Punch in the Face





Apparently, all things that combines to art is abstract. Sometime so vague that you just want to jump down the rabbit hole. And live in a mysterious island of thoughts. By thoughts I include the beauty of emptiness. But every time you try to do that. You have a face off with reality. 

Its not that, its difficult to embrace the beauty of life. Its everywhere. But its so huge and so vast, that you suffer an existential crisis even to accept life. Think of the gigantic universe. And our identity being nothing more than a mere spec of dust. Which might sound pessimistic but its not. 

Life is a punch in the face. 

I have problem with possibly every scenario presented to me by the outgoing society. A job which is a crappy thing. A moral disguise, which is the biggest pretendence game that's going on. And importantly the need to have a secure future. Which is almost as vague as to say that mind is the cocktail of chemicals. I loathe every scenario that's presented to me in the best way possible. Not because I am against it, but because its too superficial, and too civilized. But the fact is I am good at playing this game. Which makes me a pretender as well. 

I love the messiness that life holds. The chaos creating absolutely beautiful patterns. May be, my brain functions in a zen way. Just an empty canvas with the beauty of emptiness. Or a ancient folk lore played in a Norwegian village. 

By the way, I absolutely love the Norse Mythologies. 

Its beautiful how myths are so exuberant, irrational and imaginative. Think of the cunning Zeus. Or his father Cronus, who ate his own kids. Because he was told that he would be overthrown by his own kids. 

The myth goes that Zeus, told Hermes, to give man (mortal), a deceptive heart and a lying tongue. Which means that Zeus is actually responsible for deceptions and lies. Yet, he is also the god who punishes liars and oath-breakers. What kind of logic is that ? First, you create lies. And then you punish people who lie. As if, Zeus is playing games with mortals. As if humans are mere toys played by the gods. 

Anyways,  Life is a play. A grand illusion. A maya. As the eastern mysticism puts it. So, its fair enough for humans to appear as toys. Yet, Atlas carries the world. Where in heaven is also an dimension. And that's his punishment. Or his privilege.

Most of the time, I am flabbergasted by the Greek logic. 








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